


Desperate Measures

by pluto



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-26
Updated: 2011-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-28 04:21:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pluto/pseuds/pluto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders is greedy for Hawke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperate Measures

**Author's Note:**

> Kinkmeme fill -- for the same prompt as "Crazy For It" but with the added challenge of playing a needy, writhing, desperate and begging Anders seriously instead of cracky :D.

Enforced celibacy was never well-suited to Anders' nature. Even as a youth he was hungry for the attentions of others; in the dreary banality of the Circle, intimacy became his refuge and his escape, when he could not be truly free. For a time he thought Justice had quelled those appetites in him, through fear and obedience and urgency of purpose. But then there was Hawke: Hawke who insinuated into his thoughts and drowned out Justice, Hawke who left him needy and aching at the most impossible times.

Hawke who had not lain with Anders since their almost violent lovemaking after Leandra had been killed almost a month ago.

"Are you sure there's been no word?" Anders asked Bodahn. It was the third time that day, and a testament to the dwarf's patience that Bodahn cheerily replied,

"Still none yet, messere. But I'll let you know the instant I hear anything."

Anders paced the great room restlessly. In the back of his mind, Justice berated and belittled him, demanding he return to his righteous cause; though he was determined to ignore the spirit, it was a battle he rarely won without Hawke around. At last he said, "I ought to get back to the clinic. If he comes…?"

"I'll send Orana down with the news, messere. Never fear; he'll be back soon enough. Said it was only a small errand for Athenril."

"Right. A small errand. One that takes a week." Realizing he was being unjustly irritable at Bodahn, Anders gave the dwarf an apologetic smile before he headed for the door.

As he neared it, however, he heard a familiar bark even through the heavy wood. His heartbeat quickening, Anders hurried towards the door. He barely managed to step out of the way as the door was flung open. And then he found himself nearly bowled over by Hawke's huge hound, the stink of dog breath and wet fur in his face, dirty paws on his chest driving him back into the long table by the wall.

"Down," he sputtered. "Down you dirt--, er, good doggie."

"Get over here, boy! Let Anders be."

At the sound of Hawke's voice, Anders' desires collided with Justice's. Their conflict only increased as Hawke strode into the estate, looking dirty and travel worn and carelessly handsome. Anders hastily struggled to compose himself as the dog retreated back to his master's side.

"Welcome back." Anders tried not to hover. "I trust things went well?"

It was all he could do to keep his hands to himself as Hawke yanked off his mud-spattered boots. "I'm only back for a wash and a change," Hawke said. Standing, he gestured for Anders to come closer with one hand. Anders, half-embarrassed at his own eagerness, all but leapt to close the space between them, and their mouths came together roughly. For a moment it was all lips and teeth and tongues, the taste of Hawke leaving Anders breathless; and then, hands on Anders' shoulders, Hawke moved him back.

"Now for that wash," Hawke said, reaching for the buckles of his leather breastplate as he moved past Anders and into the great room. "No rest for the wicked, as they say." He flashed Anders a smile as Anders trailed after him. "Aveline's expecting me. Bodahn--have Orana bring up a pitcher and a basin?"

"Can I help with anything?" Anders followed Hawke up the stairs, watching him wrestle the breastplate aside. The padding underneath was already askew, and the neck of Hawke's undertunic gapped to show a tantalizing expanse of skin. Anders reached over to pull loose the padding ties, but Hawke gently redirected his hands.

"Haven't got time."

Reaching his bedroom, Hawke began to undress in earnest. Anders' own clothing began to feel too tight. He forced himself to clasp his hands behind his back. "What does Aveline need? Perhaps I can be of assistance?"

Hawke glanced over at him, mouth set in a firm line. "It's only a quick run into Lowtown. Set a few disorderly citizens in order. The usual fun."

Anders saw a familiar look pass over Hawke's face, guarded, uncertain, one that had taken up residence in the weeks since Hawke's mother had been murdered by the blood mage. Inside, Anders felt Justice moving again, stirring angrily at the memory of Hawke suggesting, in his grief, that perhaps the Templars were right after all. In answer, Anders moved closer to Hawke, breathed in the smell of his sweat and hair and armor until Justice dimmed.

"Then let me help you now, at least." He began to ease Hawke's tunic down his shoulders. Hawke frowned, slightly; Anders took the moment to place a kiss where shoulder joined neck. The soft thrum of Anders' need surged into a full chorus, and he couldn't help but press himself against Hawke's back. He heard a soft sigh escape Hawke's lips, one that turned into a laugh.

"That's not helping," Hawke said, stepping to one side. "I promised Aveline I'd be in and out. But I'll be home tonight, I swear." He gave Anders another smile.

Orana came in with the pitcher and basin. Anders tried to be still. Hawke shucked off the rest of his dirty clothes, dumping them unceremoniously into a pile, then wiped himself down. Anders opened and closed his hands, greedy for Hawke's skin. Needing to touch. Feeling out of control, out of line, desperate.

"I should have a proper bath tonight," Hawke said as he pulled on a clean pair of trousers. "Do you mind letting Bodahn know to have a tub ready?" He selected a tunic from his trunk and shrugged it on.

Anders couldn't restrain himself any longer. Reaching out, he stopped Hawke from fastening the last tie on his tunic, lifted Hawke's fingers to his mouth. Moved Hawke's roughened fingertips over his bottom lip and barely swallowed a moan.

"Why not now?" he said, softly. "We can be quick." He let magic stir through his hands, sent a light tingle of electricity dancing from his skin and over Hawke's. Felt Hawke shudder in response. "I can warm the water in no time."

Hawke's eyes briefly unfocused; then he shook his head. "I don't doubt," he said, voice thick. "But I really can't. Tonight, Anders." He stepped away from Anders again, retrieving his discarded bits of armor. Anders swallowed, hard, his skin burning, his blood like fire. He could feel Justice fighting to rein him in, which only made him want harder. He had never liked being told what to do.

Hawke struggled with one of the buckles on his pauldrons. Anders moved in, pulled it tight and buckled it. He let his hands slide down Hawke's sides under the pretense of adjusting his underarmor padding. His fingertips lingered over the front of Hawke's hips and his thumbs traced the edge of Hawke's smalls through the fabric of his trousers. He leaned in a little closer, not quite daring a kiss, until the proximity of their skin left him all but trembling.

Hawke made a hungry noise, and he slipped his arms briefly around Anders. Pulled them together, so that Anders felt the hardness of Hawke's cock press against his own.

"This is why you can't come along," Hawke growled into his ear. "You're too damn distracting. Now, behave."

Directed by the gentle nudge of Hawke's hands, Anders began to move away. Yes, he told himself, he needed to control himself. He should just go to the clinic, put in his time, work on his manifesto. Justice crept into his thoughts, carrying on, questioning him: what did he think he was doing, all but rubbing himself against Hawke's leg, writhing and needy and distracted--?

\--He turned his backwards step into another movement entirely, folding his legs and going down on his knees. As he went down, he leaned forward, dragging his cheek and hands along the lines of Hawke's body. "I can't," he said, lips moving against the coarse fabric of Hawke's tunic. "I won't." He mouthed the bulge of Hawke's cock through his trousers.

"Andraste's hands, Anders," Hawke swore. "What's gotten into you?" He moved to cup the sides of Anders' face, hips tilting to press himself against Anders' mouth. "Maker, I-- But I don't have time."

"Please. It's been so long. We can be quick." Anders looked up at Hawke's face. The rogue was clearly torn, his cheeks flushed with arousal, his mouth twisted. Hawke clenched his teeth, looking up at the ceiling, taking three deep breaths.

"Not now, Anders," Hawke said.

He started to step around Anders; Anders meant to let him go, to end his own humiliation. But somehow instead he was clutching at Hawke, almost begging. "Please, Hawke. Please, please don't push me away." He was mortified even as the words tumbled out of him, too desperate, too honest, wondering how Hawke always did this to him. Had him confessing, had him at his mercy, too vulnerable, on his knees, weak and exposed. He felt his face burning as Hawke frowned down at him, troubled, reaching down and hauling him to his feet like he was a little, foolish child.

Shame cut through his want. "I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know what's gotten into me-- I suppose I just missed you-- I'll go--I was on my way, before you came, and I--."

"Anders," Hawke said, stopping him. He hesitated only a moment, and then reached up, unbuckled the pauldron strap Anders had so recently fastened, pulled loose the ties on his underarmor padding. "You're right. Aveline can wait."

He helped Anders shed his coat, herded him back into the bed. Kissed him, crushing him down into the mattress, grinding his obvious need against Anders' own. Anders was startled to find Hawke's soft, hungry groans were every bit as eager as his own.

They were both far too hot for much foreplay; they shed their clothes in a rush, and Hawke fumbled in the nightstand for the slicking oil. Anders moaned with surprise and pleasure when Hawke's oiled, slippery fingers eased over his cock, cool from the oil, clutching him tightly. Hawke teased him until he was dangerously close to losing control, and then released him. Anders sat up a little to see Hawke pressing fingers into himself, clenching his teeth but not completely able to bite down against the sound of raw that rumbled up from deep in his chest. It was rare for Hawke to make himself vulnerable in this way, to let Anders inside of him, and Anders shivered with the anticipation of it, with the indulgence to come. Hawke flashed a grin at Anders when he caught him watching, and then pressed him back into the pillows with another kiss. He sucked bright red marks down Anders' throat, until Anders was bucking and groaning.

Then Hawke was over Anders, straddling him, lowering his body until their foreheads touched, until Anders was surrounded by him, enveloped in him. Anders trembled, buried hilt-deep inside Hawke, wanting to move, afraid he would explode if he did. He felt Hawke let out a long breath.

"I never meant to push you away," Hawke whispered.

Anders looked away. "I… your mother." He felt Hawke flinch, regretted his words, but he had to finish. "How can I blame you? I'm trying to control Justice, but, the truth is-- That mage girl… I'm as much a monster as that blood mage."

"Stop being ridiculous," Hawke said. "I'm trying to apologize." Hawke's mouth found Anders', and then he shifted, lifting himself up and off of Anders, slowly, slowly, until Anders shook with the need to be inside Hawke again. He groaned with pleasure as Hawke eased down onto him once more, arching upwards, driving his head back into the pillow. "Better," Hawke murmured against his throat. He traced the line of Anders' jaw with his lips. "If I'm such an idiot that I can't distinguish you from that bastard that killed my mother, then I don't deserve you. But I hope I do. And thank you, for being patient with me. Now, enough talking, don't you think?"

Anders nodded, mutely, thinking he was the one who did not deserve Hawke. And then Hawke was moving over him and there was no more room for such thoughts, no room for Justice or doubt or self-pity; there was only his greed for Hawke, and the tightness of Hawke, and Hawke's lips moving over his and his tongue against his and Hawke's fingers tugging in his hair. There was only motion and pleasure and the musky-sharp smell of Hawke's body, the sound of Hawke's throaty shout, Anders' name and the Maker's entwining on his tongue. Hawke coming, the hot spatter of his climax on Anders' belly and the tight clench of his body around Anders' cock, as he moved and loved and gripped Anders, until Anders was gasping Hawke's name, emptying inside of Hawke, pressing himself in so deeply, as if they might merge into each other.

As Anders sagged back against the mattress, Hawke rolled off of him and flopped down beside him, still breathing hard. Anders turned to curl against him; he pressed an ear to Hawke's chest and listened to his heart slowing back to its normal pace. Hawke's arm wrapped around his shoulders, drew him close.

"I know things have bashed us around a bit lately but… We'll come out of this all right, I think," Hawke said softly. "We'll just have to remember to trust each other."

Anders felt something knife through him; Justice, insisting there was no one Anders could afford to trust. He pushed Justice back, clutching at Hawke. "I will always trust you, Hawke."

Hawke laughed lightly. "I'll try to make sure you don't regret it." He sighed, and began extracting himself from the tangle of their bodies. "And now, I'd better get dressed before--"

From somewhere downstairs, Aveline's powerful voice bellowed, "HAWKE!"

Hawke's grin was only a little chagrined. Anders sat up to watch him dress; Hawke paused, looking at him. "D'you want to come?"

Anders smiled. "Always," he said, only a little suggestively.

Hawke laughed, gesturing for him to hurry; hastily pulling on their clothes, they went down to meet Aveline, together.


End file.
